


Fast Times at St. Thomas Aquinas High

by orphan_account



Category: The Following
Genre: AU, Blasphemy, Catholic School, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-08
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-10 19:39:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being kicked out of his last school and shipped off to Catholic boarding school for his senior year, all Paul Torres wanted was to keep his head down and graduate. Jacob Wells has something to say about that.</p><p>Or: Catholic boarding school AU in which Paul has a crush on Jacob, Jacob already has a girlfriend (not that that's a major issue for any of them), and Joe Carroll decides to form an underground Atheists Alliance to fuck over the faculty. Because of reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Paul Torres is having a really bad first day. Not that he expected his first day at St. Thomas Aquinas Dominican Academy to be all that great or anything considering that he'd been shipped off to boarding school and all, but even despite arriving late the night before thanks to his dad's shitty driving and having to rush to move his things in without waking up his already grumpy roommate, Paul had hoped, somehow, that he'd manage to pull a decent day from the ashes of his already feeble hopes for this school. He's good at school when he actually does the work, so it seemed like a perfectly reasonable hope at the time.

But when he woke up thirty minutes late this morning because he'd somehow forgotten to unpack his alarm clock, he should've taken that as the portent of doom it was, headed to the nurse, and gotten an excuse to stay in bed for the rest of the day and try again tomorrow. Instead, he hauled his ass up out of bed, threw on his uniform, and took off running for his first class still in the middle of straightening his tie.

He almost immediately crashed into a far more calm-looking boy who seemed to be about his age, all perfectly coiffed hair and unwrinkled uniform. Paul met his eyes for half a second, just long enough to register that the boy's thick pink lips had parted in surprise, before he blurted out an insincere, "Sorry!" and kept running.

He also could've taken _that_ as a sign that this day was not meant to be and gone back to his room, but he didn't. He kept running right into English class and threw himself into the first empty seat he saw. The teacher was already taking roll and she did _not_ look happy to see him. He offered her a weak smile, hoping she'd take pity since it was the first day, but no luck.

She made him stay after class for a lecture on punctuality, which in turn made him late to math. Math was actually his best subject, so he was hoping to get off on the right foot there at least, but by that point, the vicious cycle of lateness had begun and there was nothing for it.

Third period history found him getting wadded up balls of paper thrown at his head every time the teacher turned to the chalkboard and, of course, the one time he dared retaliate at the assholes who were doing it, the teacher caught him and assigned him extra homework in punishment.

By the time lunch rolled around, Paul should've known that the best thing to do would be to go hide in his room until the day stopped sucking, but having skipped breakfast, he was hungry and in desperate need of food.

This is how Paul finds himself sitting alone in the cafeteria, trying to be unnoticeable and yet conversely, feeling as though everyone's eyes are on him. St. Thomas is not the first time Paul has been the new kid, but he never likes it. Especially in rich kid schools like this one, where he got through his entire morning block of classes without seeing another kid with skin the same color as his; he wonders just how many of those distrustful faces in the cafeteria are only looking at him like that because they wonder how someone like him could come from a family that can afford a school like this.

(His dad owns a successful software company and his family has been in this country for so many generations that none of them remember which Torres ancestor first immigrated, _thank you very much, you racist scumbags._

It's a complicated thought to convey with one angry glare, especially to an entire roomful of people, but Paul gives it the old college try.)

He doesn't look up when several people take seats across from him, preferring to stab his peas and pretend they're the faces of everyone else in the room. He keeps his head down even as they get louder and louder, finding solace ignoring them. He doesn't pay them any attention until one of them says, "Hey, new kid."

Paul looks up warily. "What?"

"What's your name, new kid?"

He wants to say, "Why, it's New Kid. You're so clever for guessing that," but he doesn't. He's a grumpy asshole and can freely admit that, but he doesn't have a death wish.

"Paul Torres," he says, and shoves a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

He can tell they're jocks, the boys probably in football if he's judging their build right, and the girls maybe softball or soccer, he can't tell. Either way, he knows they're all there just to mess with him and he wants exactly none of it.

"Well, Paul Torres," one of them says, "who the hell transfers to boarding school for senior year?"

He risks a glance up and confirms that at least one of them was among the group throwing things at his head that morning in class and clenches his fists under the table. He promised his dad he'd try at this school and Paul doesn't make promises he doesn't intend to keep.

"Guys who got kicked out of their last school," he answers.

"Oh, yeah? What'd you get kicked out for? Being a nerd?"

Paul pushes his glasses up on his nose and rolls his eyes at their lack of originality.

"Making out with one of the other students in the confessional," he says with as much nonchalance as he can muster. "It was an all-boys school, by the way."

(It's not strictly true; he did do that, but being kicked out was the result of the fistfight he got into when that boy's older brother found out and got angry at Paul for "corrupting" his sibling. Apparently putting a guy in the hospital doesn't lead to continued offers of education. Who knew?)

He gets the reaction he wants, the stunned, horrified silence, and he takes the reprieve to shove the rest of his food in his mouth and leave the table. He keeps right on walking until he's out in the hallway, then takes off at a run back to his dorm. He's not stupid enough to think that they'll leave him alone once they pick their jaws up off the floor and he doesn't intend to be an easy target when they manage to recover.

By the time lunch hour is over, he's already completed his extra history homework and finished unpacking, so he figures maybe his day is looking up.

And then he finds himself in Latin class sitting next to the boy he ran into that morning, and the boy _won't stop staring at him_. Paul tries to ignore it for the first half an hour, but when it becomes clear that the guy isn't going to stop, Paul shoots him a look. He has nice eyes, Paul thinks, and then looks away on instinct.

He tries to take off after class is over, but he keeps hearing someone calling his name and he knows without looking that it's the boy. He hesitates, then slows down and waits for the boy to catch up to him.

"What?" he asks, a little more aggressively than he meant to.

"Hey, man," the boy says, holding out his hand for Paul to shake. Paul ignores it. "I'm Jacob."

"And?"

"And is it true that you had sex with a boy on the altar at your last school?"

Paul raises an eyebrow. "It was kissing in the confessional. How'd you hear about that anyway and why do you care?"

"People are talking," Jacob says. "And...I don't know, I just wanted to know if it was true."

"Well, it's not. Have a nice day." He says the last part sarcastically and tries to walk off, but Jacob follows him doggedly.

"I told those guys to leave you alone," he says. "They'll listen to me. I'm the team captain."

Great. Another jock.

"You shouldn't have done that," he says. "I can take care of myself and now they'll just think I need someone else to fight my battles."

Jacob grabs Paul's arm and hauls him around until they're face to face. "I was trying to help," he says earnestly. "Look, can you stop being so aloof for five seconds? I'm trying to be nice and you're not helping."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you trying to be nice?"

"I don't — I don't know. You're new so you don't have any friends and I — I mean, everyone likes me but I don't have that many _real_ friends and you just seem...I don't know. Cool."

"All you know about me is that I supposedly had sex with a boy on the altar at my last school and that turned out to not even be true. What about that seemed cool to you?"

"Not — not that," Jacob says quickly. "I don't know. It's just...a feeling. Can we — hell, can we start over, please?" He holds out his hand again. "Hi, my name is Jacob Wells."

Paul stares down at his hand, and then, to his own surprise, finds himself shaking it. "Paul Torres."

Jacob smiles at him brightly. "I have to head to French, but find me at dinner, okay? You can sit at my table. We're all cool, I promise. You'll fit right in."

"I — alright."

"See you!" Jacob says, and then takes off in the opposite direction, leaving Paul very, very confused.

Oh, well. At least his day is looking up.

***

Paul is wary when he spots Jacob sitting at a nearly full table at dinner that night. They're all sort of huddled together, ignoring the entire rest of the room, talking with their heads pressed together. They're smiling, which is good, so they don't look entirely uninviting, but they look like the kind of group that doesn't let in outsiders easily. Paul doesn't understand why Jacob thinks they'd let in him.

He's been in Catholic school all his life so he knows that while most of these kids aren't as evangelical as the parents who sent them here in the first place, most people are going to avoid him like the plague, given that apparently people are talking about him after what happened at lunch. That's fine since Paul isn't here to make friends but it does make him seriously question the efficacy of Jacob's determination to he his friend. Even if Jacob _does_ like him, Jacob's friends aren't likely to be _okay_ with Jacob liking him.

Paul ignores the glances and whispers and lets the crowd part before him as he makes his way to Jacob's table. The good thing about everyone talking behind his back is that they're all still in the collectively stunned phase; they haven't yet looped around to digesting the information and deciding to give him shit for it.

Jacob looks up as he approaches, a bright smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He's handsome in a way Paul doesn't want to think about, not after the disaster at his last school, but he can't help it. Jacob is hot and Paul's a growing boy.

"Paul!" Jacob says, like he couldn't be happier to see him. "Sit. These are my friends, Roderick, Louise, and Joe, and this is my girlfriend, Emma."

 _Well_ , Paul thinks, _at least that solves that problem._

"Hi," he says, awkwardly hovering by the empty seat while he waits to see if anyone is going to protest his joining them. When no one does, he carefully lowers himself into the chair opposite Jacob.

"We were just talking about clubs," Jacob tells him. "Joe wants to start an Atheists Alliance on campus but I don't think the dean's going to go for that."

Paul stares at the man introduced to him as Joe. "Uh, you do know this is a Catholic school, right?"

"That's no reason why we shouldn't have freedom of religion," Joe says. Judging by his accent, he's an international student. "Or," he adds, after a moment, "freedom _from_ it."

"Just because our parents sent us here doesn't mean we have to agree," Roderick puts in. "This school's got a club for everything else under the sun, why not us?"

"We tried to start one last year," Louise adds, "but they said no. Joe thinks this year's going to be different, somehow."

"I'm more charming this year," Joe says evenly. He somehow manages to make it sound like he's not bragging, which is pretty impressive as far as Paul can tell.

"You could just do it privately," Paul says. "Doesn't have to be official."

Emma laughs. "We already do it privately. What do you think this is, right now?"

Paul looks up. "Oh. Is that what this is?"

Jacob shrugs. "You are, right? I mean, I figured, with what everyone's saying...you're probably not devout if you're kissing boys in confessionals."

Paul barely manages not to blush at hearing Jacob state it so bluntly, but he nods. "Yes," he says. "I mean, no, I'm not devout."

Jacob nods. "I thought so. See, told you you'd fit right in with us."

"So what's the point of your club?" Paul asks Joe. "I mean, are you planning on having reasoned critique of biblical text or something?"

"No," Joe says with devious glint in his eye. "We're planning on raising a little hell."

Paul swallows. This Joe seems like his kind of guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I really am calling this "Fast Times at St. Thomas Aquinas High." That's not even the name of the school. LOOK AT ALL THE FUCKS I GIVE. How do you expect me to write a high school AU and _not_ call it that, THAT IS THE BETTER QUESTION.
> 
> *cough*
> 
> All blame for this goes to Paraboobizarre. We were talking about our shared headcanon that Jacob is clearly the product of Catholic school and he and Paul probably had that history with Catholicism in common and from there came the idea of a Catholic boarding school AU and we each encouraged the other to try writing it, so...here's the first chapter of mine.
> 
> Full disclaimer: I am not Catholic, but I have done some research; if you see anything grossly inaccurate, please feel free to let me know. St. Thomas Aquinas Dominican Academy is based on an actual co-ed Catholic boarding school, but the name and location is entirely made up. This is pure self-indulgent crack and you are welcome to take the ride with me, but lbr: I am totally writing this just because I want to imagine Jacob and Paul in Catholic schoolboy uniforms making out and tugging on each other's ties and -- um. Yeah. Whee.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul proves his allegiance to the Atheists Alliance; this whole winding up in confessional booths with cute boys thing is getting to be a habit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long! For those of you who follow my Tumblr, you already know the deal, but for those who don't: first my laptop died and I had to buy a new one, then I caught a terrible case of vertigo and was basically incapacitated for a week. But I'm back now, and you can expect updates much more frequently. Thank you very much for your patience!

"Wait!" Jacob says when Paul stands to head back to his dorm after dinner. "I'll walk you," he adds quickly. "We're in the same dorm, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," Paul says warily. He's still not sure what to do with someone who's so enthusiastic about being his friend; Paul's never really done the whole "friend" thing before and he has no fucking clue what he's doing now.

"Great," Jacob says, and then turns back to Emma. "I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast," he tells her, and they share a soft, tender kiss that Paul can tell both of them mean. He looks away awkwardly while he waits for Jacob to finish his goodbye and catch up, then together they exit the cafeteria and head for St. Frederick Hall. The irony of Frederick being the patron saint of the dorm that houses himself and Jacob does not escape Paul's notice.

"Okay, so," Jacob says as they walk. "I need to like, catch you up on the rules."

"Rules?"

"Yeah," Jacob says. "The rules of Atheists Alliance."

"Let me guess," Paul says, allowing sarcasm to drip into his voice. "The first rule of Atheists Alliance is that you do not talk about Atheists Alliance."

"Actually," Jacob says, "yes. Unless you're Joe, but that's the whole thing. He talks about it and causes problems for the faculty but the rest of us have to pretend to be pious little do-gooders."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm captain of the football team," Jacob says. "Emma's in this program where high school students tutor some elementary schoolers in Latin twice a week. Roderick's on the student government council. Louise is president of the French club. We'll have to find something for you. Maybe you could join Spanish club?"

Paul side-eyes him, hard, and then says, "I don't speak Spanish."

"Really?" Jacob asks, then shrugs as if he doesn't realize what just happened. "Well, we'll find something. Can you sing? We're holding choir auditions soon."

"We?" Paul asks. "Wait. Are you telling me that you're an honest-to-God _choir boy_?"

"Honest," Jacob agrees. "Although not to God. Obviously. The point is, we all have to look like good students."

Paul considers this, then asks, "Wait, so...Joe's the rebel and the rest of you pretend to be good little Catholics so that when you sit together at dinner..."

"The faculty thinks we're doing our Christianly duty, trying to bring Joe back to the Church," Jacob supplies. "That way, they leave us alone."

"That's...kind of genius," Paul admits. "Who came up with that?"

"Joe. He comes up with most of the stuff we do."

Paul doesn't comment on that. It seems wise not to.

"So why'd you tell those guys about your old school?" Jacob asks. "I mean, are you suicidal or something?"

"I wanted them to leave me alone," Paul answers. "Seemed like the quickest way to scare them off. Plus it's the truth and I've never seen much reason to lie about it."

Jacob considers that, then nods. "I'll keep them off your back for as long as I can. Once they realize you're not a threat, though..."

"Who said I'm not a threat?" Paul asks. He stops because they've reached his door, but also because he wants to see Jacob's reaction to the question. He's not disappointed; Jacob stares at him for a moment like he's trying to parse out what that means, and then he shrugs uselessly.

"I don't know," he admits. "I just know that I can't stand between you and them forever."

"I'm not asking you to."

"Alright," Jacob says, holding his hands up in surrender. "I'll see you tomorrow then, I guess. It's — I really do want to be your friend, Paul. And I think the rest of the club does, too. Just...try not to be so scary, okay?"

"I'm not —" Paul starts, but Jacob's already gone. Paul sighs, unlocks his door, and prepares for the onslaught from his roommate.

***

It's not even the end of Paul's first week at St. Thomas Aquinas when Emma catches him by the arm on his way to the library and hauls him into an empty classroom. He's about ready to start throwing punches, assuming the jocks from the cafeteria on his first day have finally wrapped their thick heads around what he told them and decided it was time to beat the urge to kiss boys right out of him, before he finally notices that it's her and she looks comparatively harmless.

"Emma?" he says. "What the fuck are you —"

"I don't know if Jacob told you," she says, and for the first time Paul notices that Jacob is in the room, too, "but we have a tradition in the club. Think of it as an initiation."

"Initiation?"

"A show of trust," she says. "Proof that you believe in the cause."

"I thought the cause was to _not_ believe."

The corners of her mouth twitch up into a humorless smile. "Clever," she says, "but not the point. We're planning stuff this year. Big stuff. And we need a gesture of goodwill to show us that you're not about to rat us out to the faculty."

"What kind of gesture?"

"That's up to you," she says, shrugging. "Jacob will help you and make sure you go through with it."

"If you don't tell me what the fuck I have to do, then how the hell am I supposed to actually do it?" Paul demands.

"Have a little imagination," she says. "Find something to desecrate."

"What, do you want me to like piss in the holy water fountain or something?"

"Hardly imaginative," she comments, "but it would pass muster if that's what you want to go with. Do try a little originality, though, Paul," she says as she brushes past him with a smile on her face.

"Look, I'll do what you guys want, I guess, because fucking over the faculty is fun, but I'm not —"

"No one's asking you to be the brains behind the operation," she says, pausing in the doorway and turning back to face him. "We just want a show of trust. Talk to Jacob. He'll help you plan."

She gives him one last smirk, then disappears back out into the hallway, leaving Paul to stare at Jacob in shock.

"She is just —" he starts, and then looks away when he sees the small smile on Jacob's lips.

"I know," he says fondly. "Look, this isn't as big of a deal as she made it sound. Emma likes to give orders like this is life or death important. It's just...you know, you piss in the holy water fountain or you steal the monstrance. Nothing earth-shattering."

"Stealing's not really my thing," Paul says. "I'm more of a hacker."

"You can do it," Jacob encourages. "I'll be your lookout. It'll be fine."

He looks at Paul with those big, pleading eyes and Paul knows that he is so fucked.

He says, "Alright," anyway.

***

They wait until dinner time, eating their meals quickly and then excusing themselves separately so as to not attract attention. The other three give them a knowing look when Paul is the first to go, and he shoots them back a glare. He doesn't like the idea that he has to prove himself worthy of their friendship and he wouldn't be doing this at all if it weren't for Jacob's inexplicable eagerness to bring Paul into his social circle. He doesn't really get it, but he'll be damned if he's going to back away from it, so he finds himself tiptoeing into the church with Jacob at his heels.

Being a school church, it's not exactly fancy or laid out like the cathedrals Paul is used to attending, but it's certainly big; large enough to hold the entire student body during the mandatory Mass on Sundays, with ante chambers going off from each side. He doesn't bother asking what all of them are, sure that he'll pick that stuff up the longer he's a student, and instead just lets Jacob lead him into the adoration chapel.

He almost says, "Thank God," when he realizes this school has one and he doesn't have to go looking for the monstrance, but realizes that probably wouldn't endear him to Jacob's cause.

It's heavy when he picks it up, moreso than he'd have thought just to look at it. It must be solid gold or something, and it's certainly ornate enough to have added on a few extra pounds in adornments alone. Paul stares at it and wonders how anyone can look at this thing and really believe that Jesus is inside it. It's a cracker, and not even a good-tasting one at that. Paul's read the Bible, more than most people would believe when they first meet him, and he can not imagine that Jesus, who was all about humility and being humble and living among the common man, would ever let himself be housed in something so gaudy and unnecessarily expensive, anyway.

"Okay," he whispers to Jacob, careful even though the church is empty. "Let's go."

They creep back out of the adoration chapel and no sooner has Paul firmly affixed his eyes on the door when it opens, the priest stepping through and making his way towards the altar. Paul doesn't stop long enough to see what he's doing there, just grabs Jacob by the collar of the shirt and hauls him into the closest alcove. It happens to be the one housing the confessional booth, and Paul wrenches it open and drags Jacob in after him.

The monstrance clatters to the floor and Paul freezes, clamping his hand over Jacob's mouth and not daring to breathe. He fell onto the bench as they rushed inside and Jacob is hovering over him awkwardly; there's no place for him to sit other than Paul's lap, but the booth isn't tall enough for Jacob to stand all the way up. With the monstrance taking up half the floor, Jacob is all but straddling Paul's lap and barely holding himself up off it. They stare at each other, wide-eyed, for a long, silent moment, until they feel sure the priest didn't hear them or isn't bothering to check out the commotion if he did. Paul breathes a sigh of relief and removes his hand from Jacob's mouth before muttering a quick, "Sorry."

"I'm sure you say that to all the boys you drag into confessionals," Jacob says pointedly, but his lips are curved in the slightest of smiles, so Paul thinks he's not that mad about it.

"Only the ones who don't want to be in here with me," he quips back.

There's a long silence, and then Jacob asks, "Who said I didn't?"

Paul stares at him, trying to parse out if Jacob means what he thinks he means, and then their bodies lean towards each other, seeking each other without, Paul is sure of it, either of them consciously deciding to do so. Paul licks his lips and steadies himself, so damn ready to kiss Jacob until neither of them can breathe, and then Jacob stops with their mouths only inches apart.

"We — we should get this back to Joe," he says, bending down to pick up their loot. "Everyone will be waiting."

"Right," Paul says slowly, and waits for Jacob to check that the alcove is clear before he follows Jacob back out of the confessional. Neither of them mentions what almost happened in the booth during their mad dash to Joe's dorm room, and once they're there, there's hardly time for it amidst all of the congratulations.

It's nice to be officially accepted into the group, Paul supposes, but honestly, he'd rather have just kissed Jacob in the booth and had done with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For any of you out there who don't know, here's some Catholic info relevant to this chapter:
> 
> 1) St. Frederick, after being ordained as a priest, was "put in charge of converting the remaining heathens in his diocese." Paul finds it ironic that he's the patron saint of the dorm he and Jacob live in, since they, as atheists, would be considered heathens.
> 
> 2) The main celebration of the Mass liturgy is the Eucharist. You probably know it as "communion." It's a small cracker and bit of wine that, in most Protestant denominations, symbolizes what Jesus said at the Last Supper re: "this is my body, this is my blood." However, for Catholics, it is the very real, very literal, actual presence of Jesus Christ; this is called transubstatiation, and only an ordained Catholic priest can perform that rite. A monstrance looks like [this](https://www.google.com/search?q=monstrance&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=zQqgUYEVh771BJSWgcgI&sqi=2&ved=0CAcQ_AUoAQ&biw=1440&bih=718), and is basically an ornate vessel in which the priest places a consecrated, transubstatiated, cracker, which for Catholics is the very real presence and body of Christ. The monstrance is then used in what is called Eucharistic adoration, which is basically when Catholics worship Jesus while looking at the cracker displayed in the monstrance. Some churches have a special room called an adoration chapel where congregants can go to worship/pray before the monstrance whenever they want. So for Paul to steal the monstrance would be a pretty big deal for the faculty at St. Thomas Aquinas -- aside from stealing an expensive artifact, according to their belief system, he literally stole the actual body of Jesus Christ (and, as far as they know, probably desecrated it...which let me assure you, the AA did that night in Joe's dorm, so good call on that one, faculty). Paul's theft was a pretty big gesture of his solidarity to the AA's cause, and a pretty big blow to the faculty.
> 
> If you ever have any questions about the Catholic stuff in this story, feel free to ask me; as I've said, I am not personally Catholic, but I have done a lot of research into the religion, so I do know quite a good bit, and I'm happy to share, particularly when it's relevant to what's going on in the story.
> 
> (Also: remember that the tags of this fic warn for blasphemy, so please no comments telling me I'm driving the bus to hell; I already know that, thank you!)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul learns about the Alliance's Saturday night ritual. Also, Jacob is a handsy drunk.

There is hell to pay after the faculty discovers that their precious monstrance has been stolen. Every one of his classes ends with the teacher pleading for the guilty party to come forward, return the artifact, and for the love of all that is holy, please don't destroy the Body of Christ contained within. It's too late for that, Paul thinks wryly, considering that the first thing Joe did when Paul brought him the prize was to pry it open, remove the wafer, and take a truly sadistic amount of glee in breaking off a pinch of it at a time, crumbling it between his fingers, and then grinding it into the carpet with the heel of his pristine uniform shoes. Paul's all for not believing and even for fucking over the faculty, but there was something truly...cruel about the way Joe had took pleasure in taking his time breaking the wafer apart. On top of all that, Paul has twice walked by the church and heard nuns weeping within.

By the time the weekend arrives, Paul's pretty sure they're not going to figure out he's the one that took it, nor that it currently resides in the back of Joe's dorm closet, so he feels pretty good heading into his mandatory confession on Saturday. Best as he can tell, each grade is assigned a day and they're required to come perform a confession to get rid of all their mortal sins before Sunday's (also mandatory) Mass. Seniors get Saturday, which gives them less time to go out and sin again before the Eucharist, but he supposes freshman, who are scheduled to confess on Tuesday, are basically just screwed.

There's no set time for anyone, he learns, so he, Jacob, and Emma head down to get in line together. Emma's been kinder to him since he passed her initiation, but Paul still doesn't like seeing her hands on Jacob or the way Jacob leans into her with that dopey little smile on his face. Paul wants to lick and bite at those lips until they're bruised and tender and unmistakably his.

"This goes without saying," Emma says, catching Paul's arm and leaning close to whisper in his ear, "but let me say it anyway. You know not to go in there and do anything stupid like confess to stealing, right?"

Paul raises an eyebrow and whispers back, "Do you think I use confession time to actually, like... _confess_?"

She shrugs. "I don't know, Paul. You don't tell us much about yourself."

"I make shit up," he tells her. "Don't you?"

"Sometimes," she says. "Sometimes I don't say anything at all. We're required to go, not to actually say anything. I've looked it up. The rule book isn't very specific."

Paul laughs. "I like that one."

She grins at him. "Try it this time. It annoys the fuck out of the priests."

He's trying to be nice to her, mostly for Jacob's sake, and he really does like the idea, so he nods. "Maybe I will."

"Good," she says, and squeezes his arm once, almost affectionately, before letting go.

"So," she says, "did Jacob tell you about our Saturday night ritual?"

"Ritual? Isn't the point of being an atheist to get away from rituals?"

She rolls her eyes, laughing. "Habit, then. Every Saturday night we all hang out in Roderick's dorm room. His older brother smuggles in alcohol and Louise and I have been sneaking in there for so many years now that we could get past the faculty in our sleep. You should come."

Paul hesitates. Being included is nice, but that sounds like couples theater to him — Roderick and Louise, Jacob and Emma...and Paul. He pretty much can't think of a less fun way to spend his Saturday evening.

"Come on," Jacob wheedles. "There's free booze. Roderick will probably even give you first pick, since you're the hero of the week and all."

Paul sighs. "Yeah, alright."

Emma smiles and then pushes him towards the confessional booth. "You're up," she says, and then puts a finger over her lips to remind him to be silent. He nods and steps inside.

***

Jacob, as it turns out, is a handsy drunk. This is a problem because Paul, as it happens, is _also_ a handsy drunk. But what truly makes this problem a spectacularly bad situation is that Emma happens to be sitting all of two feet away from them, watching as they continually catch themselves touching the other in a way that they really, really shouldn't and then jerk their hands away roughly.

That, and the fact that she doesn't seem too upset about it.

Jacob slumps himself half on top of Paul's lap, his head lolling on Paul's thigh, and Paul's hand automatically reaches down to card through that perfect hair of his. It's soft against his fingers and Paul can't help the sigh that escapes his lips; he is only human.

"Emma," Jacob whines, and reaches out blindly for her. "You should be over here." He pouts almost petulantly until she joins him, half-propped against Paul's knee. Jacob smiles and they start to kiss, much to the amused catcalls of Roderick and Louise (who are up on the bed doing fuck only knows what themselves; Paul is too afraid to look), but the main thing Paul is having trouble with is, well.

They are literally making out _on_ him.

He pulls his fingers back from Jacob's hair, earning him a noise of protest as Jacob gropes blindly for his hand, lips still sealed to his girlfriend's, and hauls it back down to his head. He moans when Paul starts petting through his hair again, and Paul can't tell if it's because of Paul's fingers or because of Emma's mouth. The thought is hotter than he thought it would be.

He tries to wait them out, but the more they get into it, the more they start writhing against his leg, which eventually results in them being more or less completely on his lap. He finally decides enough is enough and is ready to tell them to get the fuck off of him, he's going back to his own dorm, when Emma pulls back, panting, and looks at Paul with bright, sharp eyes.

"Jacob," she says, low and throaty, "we're being rude."

Jacob, who appears to be completely fucking off his gourd at this point, thanks to the alcohol and the fact that his blood has probably all gone south, blinks at her dumbly. "We are?"

"Mhm," she says. "We're leaving Paul out of our fun."

Jacob is suddenly more alert and the two of them stare at each other, engaging in wordless conversation. Paul wonders if Jacob told her about their almost-kiss in the confessional, if he's told her that it's pretty obvious Paul wants him and that he's considering it right back. He wonders how the hell Emma heard all that and decided that it was nothing she couldn't be casual about.

"Uh," Paul says, intelligently. "That's — that's okay."

"No," Emma says thoughtfully. "See, Paul, when my boyfriend comes gasping your name while I'm going down on him, that's the sort of thing a girl takes notice of. It's pretty obvious you're attracted to him, and trust me, he's curious. So why not get it out of your systems?"

"What?"

"Kiss," she says. "Then Jacob can stop obsessing about it."

Paul looks at Jacob, at the way Jacob won't meet his eyes but is instead staring down at his own hands, almost embarrassed. The room is silent, and Paul can't tell if that's because Roderick and Louise have drunk themselves into a stupor and passed out or if they've fallen silent waiting to see what happens next. They all know Paul likes boys and it's never been an issue before, but somehow even amongst a room full of atheists, Paul can't let himself forget that this is a Catholic boarding school. He can't stop waiting for one of them to throw a punch and start cursing him six ways to Sunday.

But then Jacob bites his lip and Paul's decision is pretty much made for him on the spot.

He reaches out, curling his fingers against the nape of Jacob's neck, his thumb stroking over Jacob's jawline. Paul's not usually a gentle person, but Jacob is nervous and trembling in his hands like a scared animal and Paul doesn't want to frighten him away now that he has permission to reach out and touch.

"Did you really say my name when you got off?" he asks, unable to stop himself.

Jacob nods. "I don't — I can't stop imagining it."

"So find out," Emma prompts, and then Jacob leans forward, pressing his lips to Paul's hesitantly.

Jacob gasps when their tongues connect and tilts his head for Paul to have a better angle. His hands flap uselessly at his sides before he gets them on Paul, sliding down his chest and then up under the hem of Paul's shirt. Paul grips Jacob's hip with his free hand and shifts, pushing Jacob back against the foot of the bed frame to hover more directly over him. Emma's still sitting on his leg and he can't believe she's just sitting there watching this, watching Jacob give himself over to Paul so easily. Jacob is hard against him and Paul doesn't know if it's from him or Emma or both, but he knows that he can take care of that problem so easily if Jacob will let him. He reaches for the fly of Jacob's pants, only to have his hand caught by Emma as she pulls it back.

He leans back to look her in the eye, panting and dazed and not exactly in control of anything at all. She's breathing hard, too, and Paul thinks it might've been because she thought they were hot together, but he can't know without asking, and words are beyond him right now. He glances over at Jacob and finds him sprawled against the bed frame, tenting his jeans, and looking well and truly wrecked after being made out with by two people within fewer minutes.

When Paul meets Emma's eyes again, she swallows roughly and then says, "So...not something you're going to get out of your system, then, is it?"

Jacob shakes his head violently, all traces of his usual wide-eyed innocence gone.

Emma looks back and forth between the two of them, then says, "Tomorrow, after Mass, the garden. We need to talk."

Paul nods and collapses back against the bed frame next to Jacob, careful not to touch him, and grabs the beer bottle he was nursing before his world got turned on its end. He downs the rest of it in one and then reaches for the closest bottle of smuggled liquor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relevant Catholic info for this chapter: Catholics have two different kinds of sins, venial and mortal. Mortal sins are the biggies, the ones that send you straight to Hell if you die with them on your soul. If you die with venial sins, but no mortal ones, then you go to Purgatory to work those off before finally heading up to Heaven.
> 
> In order to partake in the Eucharist, you must be Catholic, in full communion with the Church (i.e. you have to agree with all of the Church's teachings, so no being pro-choice or whatever), and your soul must be free of mortal sins. Partaking in the Eucharist when you don't meet those qualifications is called liturgical abuse and is a sure-fire way to piss off traditional Catholics. This is why the school schedules weekly confession for all the students; to allow the students to purge themselves of their mortal sins before partaking of the Eucharist at Mass on Sunday. Of course, being the Atheists Alliance, they all purposefully leave mortal sins un-confessed and take communion as a bit of silent rebellion, but what the faculty doesn't know will only amuse the lot of them.
> 
> So basically, it's a way for Paul, Jacob, Emma, Roderick, and Louise to appear to be good little Catholics per Joe's orders while secretly sending a silent "fuck you" to the clergy.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, and if you have any questions about the theology involved in any of this, ask! I have spent way too many hours of my life researching this stuff and writing this fic is about the only use I have for the resulting knowledge. So ask away, my dears!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul attends his first Mass at St. Thomas Aquinas and finds out that the school church is a little more modern than he's used to; Emma offers the boys a compromise.

Mass is...well, it's Mass, which means it's boring and silly and when Paul looks around at the the Alliance kids, he sees it in their faces, too — the complete bemusement that this means anything to anyone. Well, that and the cloying smell of incense pissing him off; he'll smell like it for the rest of the day, no matter how many showers he takes.

He's sitting between Jacob and Louise with Emma on Jacob's other side. Paul's not expecting it when Louise's hand slips into his during the Our Father; Paul's church back home is far more traditional and the priest felt that hand-holding during Mass was liturgical abuse. He couldn't officially force anyone to not do it, but after several stern looks during an entire month's worth of Sundays, the congregation abandoned the practice.

The school church, however, seems to not have that problem. Paul wants to jerk his hand out of hers as soon as he realizes that Jacob is on his other side, but then he remembers that Joe wants them to appear to be good little Catholics, and he reluctantly entwines his fingers with Jacob's. He stares down at where they are joined, feeling Jacob's palm grow sweaty against his as the prayer drones on. He realizes, with an excited jolt, that Jacob is nervous, that Paul's skin against his is actually _doing things_ to Jacob's body.

He looks up and catches Jacob's eye, and the two of them stare at each other for a long moment before Jacob turns his attention to Emma; it takes Paul a moment to relalize that she must've squeezed Jacob's other hand to get his attention back on her. Reluctantly, Paul tears his eyes away and faces forward to the altar once again.

The five of them file forward to receive the Eucharist, and when his friends kneel and open their mouths to receive on the tongue, Paul follows suit. They're among the only ones who do this; it's more traditional, but again no priest can stop someone who wants to receive in the hand. Most of the students present choose that option, so Paul assumes going the more traditional route is more of the Alliance's attempt to put forth a pious image. Joe, he notes, as he files back to his seat, is sitting in the back, looking surly, arms folded across his chest. He makes no attempt to come forward and receive the Presence; the priest must know by now not to give it to him. Paul wonders how long it will take them to realize that they've been giving the Body and Blood to the miscreant sinners of the Alliance.

He, Jacob, and Emma do not stick around to congregate after the service, nor do they join the rush to the cafeteria for brunch. Emma determinedly leads them to the empty garden on the far side of campus where no one is likely to be for quite awhile after the service. It's eerie and empty with just the three of them, but it's private and that's really all they need. Paul wishes he had a chance to talk to Jacob alone first, to find out what's going on with him and what he actually wants, but there's been no time and Emma's jaw is firmly set.

She takes a seat on the low wall surrounding the garden, so Paul takes the bench opposite her. Jacob looks back and forth between them before settling on the wall beside Emma, and Paul tries not to be bothered by that.

Emma's legs kick back and forth as she collects herself and Paul can't quite match the childish action with the woman in front of him.

"Are you gay?" she asks after a long moment. Paul can't tell if she's asking him or Jacob, so he starts to answer at the same time as Jacob does. Their voices overlap as they both say, "No."

The two of them raise an eyebrow at him. "You first," Emma says. "Because I'm pretty sure you weren't lying about that whole kissing a boy in a confessional thing."

"I wasn't," Paul says. "I like boys. I like girls. I...I don't know. People are hot, mostly. I think I'm a little pickier with which girls I'll hook up with, so I guess you could say I lean more towards boys, but mostly it's just...people."

She doesn't look like she really understands what he's trying to say. (Which, well, fair enough, because Paul's never found a label that quite fits him either; he is what he is, and it's never bothered him that he didn't have a word to give it a name. People are way more complicated than that, and Paul's always thought it was a disservice to try to summarize.)

"Alright," she says. "Jacob?"

"I'm not gay," Jacob repeats. "I just...I've always been curious, I guess, and then Paul showed up, and...and it all kind of happened really fast. And I didn't know if I wanted it to really happen or if I just liked the _idea_ of it until we kissed last night."

"But it's not just the idea of it," she says flatly. "You're...bi, or...or whatever, and you want him."

Jacob shifts uncomfortably at the label, but after a moment, he acquiesces, "Yes."

She runs a hand through her short pixie-cut hair and asks, "Do you still want me?"

"Yes," he says, actually grabbing her and turning her to face him so that she can see his sincerity. He looks at her like she should've known that already, like he can't believe she has to ask, and Paul bites down his annoyance at how much Jacob loves her.

"You still want him, though," she says quietly. "It wasn't just curiosity. It's bigger than that."

He flushes and meets Paul's eyes. "Yes," he says. "I can't stop thinking about him."

There's silence for a long moment while Emma thinks all of this through. Then she takes a breath and when she looks at him this time, she's put back together, not a hint of doubt anywhere. Paul has no idea how she compartmentalizes that well and he used to think he was a pro.

"Alright," she says. "You two can...do whatever three days a week. I'll...I'll find other ways to occupy my time. I get you the other four, though. I was your girlfriend first, it's only fair I get more."

"You — you're just going to let me go off and — and be with him and you'll be fine with it?"

Her composure stutters for half a second before she asks, logically as you please, "Well what would you suggest, Jacob? That we break up for you to pursue a...fascination with gay sex? That I learn to accept you saying his name while you're having sex with me because you can't get him off your mind? Or what, that we just invite him into bed with us so that you can have your cake and eat me out, too?"

There's a long, quiet moment in which the three of them stare at each other. And then Jacob asks in a tiny, timid voice, "Could we?"

"Could we what?"

"Have a threesome," Jacob says. "Paul said he likes girls."

Paul really doesn't want to do it, not because he's not into women but because he'd much rather have Jacob to himself in the time that they have together, but if that's what it took to get Emma to be okay with this, he would. Paul's pretty good at cunnilingus if his past partners have been anything to go by. He might be rusty but he could get back into it if pressed.

Then, "No," Emma says. "I — Jacob, it's one thing to let you go off and know you're with him. It's another to ask me to watch while he — while the two of you — while I just _sit there_ because the two of you kiss and it's like you forget that anything else exists and I just — I won't do it." Her eyes are blazing now, staring him down until Jacob actually cowers for daring to suggest it at all.

"I saw the way you two were when you kissed," she says. "If you were actually fucking? You'd forget me. Don't," she says, when he tries to interrupt. "Don't. You would. And I won't be forgotten, Jacob. So you two go do whatever Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays but I don't ever want to hear about it. That's the agreement, take it or leave it."

"I —" Jacob says, and then turns to stare at Paul, who realizes that he's the one who's going to have to be civil here.

He clears his throat, then nods once. "Yes," he says. "Of course."

"Okay," Jacob whispers. "I — I'll take it."

"Fine," she says, and then hooks him under the arm. "Sunday's one of my days, so come on."

And then she hauls Jacob out of the garden, leaving Paul sitting there, absolutely speechless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catholic info for this chapter: The Our Father is a prayer you're probably familiar with (Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed by Thy name...); in more modern Catholic churches, congregants hold hands with those sitting next to them during it to create a sense of community. More traditional Catholics feel this is a distraction from the point of the Mass (the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist) and thus feel that holding hands, while not strictly prohibited, borders on liturgical abuse. Paul's home church is more traditional and doesn't hold hands during it, but as far as I can tell, most school Masses do encourage it, so I figured it would be done at St. Thomas Aquinas. Also, some modern Catholics stand and receive the Eucharist in their hand, but the traditional way is to kneel and receive on the tongue. There's no prohibition against either, and so priests must respect the preferences of each congregant, but the Alliance goes with the more traditional way in keeping with their "good little Catholic" image Joe wants them to maintain.
> 
> As always, if you have questions about the Catholic stuff, ASK. Seriously, I am happy to supply info.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you're enjoying so far.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monday is Paul's first day with Jacob. Too bad everything's going to Hell.

Monday is just flat-out awful. Emma is in his first class of the day and when she sees him sitting on the left side of the room, she purposefully heads to the far right even though she usually sits towards the middle. Paul tries not to hold it against her because, well, really, how many women would willingly hand their boyfriends off to him three days a week? There's an unspoken trust in it, that she trusts Paul won't try to take him completely, that he respects her enough to share. He never told her any of that, although it's mostly true — she's not his favorite person in the world, but he knows how to be grateful for what he's got — but she somehow knew after only a week of being aware of his existence. That's pretty cool of her, and Paul can give the credit where it's due.

But it just gets worse after that; Latin class includes some of the jocks from his first day, and they've apparently had time to assimilate the information he dropped on their heads during lunch and swung back around from, "stare at in confusion and avoid at all costs," to "harass and humiliate every time a teacher turns her head." He's sitting next to Jacob — the only good part of this day is knowing that Jacob is his today, that he gets to take Jacob somewhere private this afternoon and see just how far Jacob will let him take this thing between them — and trying to ignore the balls of paper they're tossing at his head. He lasts five entire minutes before he looks down at one of the wads of paper and realizes there's writing on it, and despite his better judgement, he opens it up anyway and reads.

He's not surprised by what he finds on the paper, has heard it a million times over, but it must show on his face that whatever's on it isn't good because Jacob reaches over and plucks it out of his hands. Watching Jacob's face fall is ten times worse than reading it himself, and Paul clenches his fists together to keep himself in his seat. Every instinct he has is telling him to throw himself at them, to punch and kick until they're a bloody mess, but if he does that, he'll get kicked out of St. Thomas Aquinas. And unlike every other school he's ever been to, Paul actually has a reason to want to stay where he is this time.

He takes the paper back from Jacob, wads it up, and hurls it across the room at the biggest jock's head as soon as the teacher turns to the board. It bounces off the asshole's thick skull like a rubber ball and he stares Paul down. Paul knows he'll pay for it later, probably with a bloody nose — and if he's very, very lucky, nothing more — but it's worth it when he turns back to Jacob and finds his face slightly less crestfallen than it was before.

He and Jacob meet up in the library for lunch, working to get all their homework done so that they'll have the entire evening together. Neither of them put words to why they want the entire evening free, but every time Paul catches Jacob's eye, he can see it there, the bright, curious sparkle that lets Paul know Jacob is picturing the things they can do, is planning on taking his time tonight while he learns. It sends a shiver down Paul's spine and he smiles, then forces his attention back on his essay. The only thing that keeps him from procrastinating is the knowledge that every minute he spends writing is one more minute he gets to spend tracing Jacob's hip bones with his tongue.

Then comes dinner. They can't skip it like they did lunch, and before Paul can think better of it, he's following Jacob to their usual table. Everyone looks up, even Joe, who Paul is pretty sure couldn't care less about the romantic goings on of the Alliance members, and Paul sees Emma's jaw set in a tight line. He can't blame her, and he reaches out to pull Jacob away, to convince him to go sit somewhere else, but Jacob seems to have suddenly realized the problem because he goes stiff under Paul's hand.

The only two seats open are the ones he and Jacob usually occupy — Jacob's seat next to Emma and Paul's seat across from Jacob. Jacob hesitates, then lowers himself down beside his girlfriend, and Paul has no choice but to take his usual seat. No one says anything, not even Roderick, who Paul is pretty sure not only knows what's going on but thinks it's fucking _hilarious_ , so Paul starts shoveling food into his mouth as quickly as possible.

Finally, Jacob clears his throat and says, "Paul, tomorrow is choir auditions. You need to get involved in at least one school activity, so you should come try out."

Paul opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, Emma says, cold and eerily calm, "Tuesdays are mine."

"I —" Jacob starts. "It's not — we wouldn't. It's just for choir. Joe wants Paul to go out for something. Don't you, Joe?"

"Indeed," Joe says. "One must project a certain image in order to be left alone, now, mustn't they?"

"How do you even know I can sing?" Paul asks, against his better judgement.

Jacob blushes and says, "I've heard you in the showers."

Emma's jawline clenches so hard that Paul wants to stick some coal between her teeth just to see if it'd come back out as a diamond.

"Tuesdays are my day," she says again. "That was the deal."

"I can't exactly not see him on your days," Jacob says quietly. "Just like I'm currently seeing you on his."

She seems to consider that for a moment, and then apparently decides that she can't argue with the logic because she glances quickly at Joe and then nods.

"Fine. Good luck with your audition, Paul."

She makes it sound like, "I hope you choke on an Ave Maria," but Paul appreciates that she's at least making an attempt.

"Well," Roderick says after silence has fallen. "Ain't this some shit?"

He looks like he can't decide if he wants to burst into hysterical laughter at their predicament or find a way to fix it in order to keep it from interfering with Alliance business. Paul can't exactly blame him for finding this situation funny, but fuck if it doesn't make him want to smash the guy's face in a little bit, even if he did supply the necessary booze and relative privacy that allowed Paul to kiss Jacob for the first time.

Next to him, Louise smirks. "You know," she says, eyes glinting, "in the Bible, Jacob had two wives."

"Shut up," Emma bites back at her. "Everyone fucking did in those days. It was kind of the thing."

"Now now," Joe says, holding a palm out towards each woman. "Let's not argue over the love lives of fictional characters."

"Especially not when we've got front row tickets to something far more entertaining," Louise agrees.

Emma stands without another word and storms out of the cafeteria in a blur of righteous anger.

Paul glances at Jacob and finds him staring after her, clearly torn between letting her deal with this on her own and boyfriend instincts that tell him to go to her and offer comfort. Before he can stop himself, Paul slips his hand under the table and rests it high on Jacob's thigh. It gets his attention back on Paul, which is exactly what Paul wanted, and Paul tries not to feel too badly for doing it.

"We should go," he says. "Your dorm or mine?"

"Think your roommate will leave us alone?"

Paul shrugs. He can count on one hand the number of words he's said to his roommate since moving in. He has no idea what the guy's policy is on being sexiled.

"Mine, then," Jacob says, and the two of them ignore Roderick and Louise's snickers as they make their way towards the exit.

Paul has no idea how the two jocks just past the exit manages to catch him off guard; Paul is always so wary about his surroundings that he tends to see this shit coming from a mile off. But he must be focused too much on where he's about to go with Jacob because he doesn't see it coming until he's been slammed up against a locker and has already taken a fist to the face.

He hears Jacob screaming his name and telling them to back off, even ordering them as their captain to leave Paul alone. But just like Paul always knew would happen if Jacob befriended him, he hears them turn on Jacob, asking exactly where he was going alone with Paul. He hears them call Jacob a few words that he's sure Jacob's never been called before in his entire life, and then he hears the sickening thunk of another fist colliding with someone's body. It takes him a moment to realize that he doesn't feel a new influx of pain; the fist wasn't for him. It was for Jacob.

Paul snaps and headbutts the guy holding him against the locker, flinging himself bodily into the guy's torso until he goes down. Paul knees him in the groin to make sure he stays there, and then he's on the guy hitting Jacob, hauling him backwards and punching over and over until Jacob pulls him off and starts dragging him away. There's a trail of blood dripping behind them, probably their own but considering how bloody Paul's fists are, he can't be sure. They're just lucky most of the faculty members were in the cafeteria and not out in the halls to catch them in the act.

Jacob shoves him into a bathroom, hurriedly trying to wash off enough of the blood so that their trail will die here. Paul takes the moment to check that Jacob doesn't have any broken bones, just a lot of bruises, but luckily they seem to have concentrated their pounding on his torso, so those can be hidden with a shirt. As for Paul's face...well. He learned a long time ago that no one really gives a shit when he shows up with a black eye. They sort of just expect it from him.

They check the hall before they exit the bathroom, afraid that maybe the jocks might've recovered enough to chase them down, but they must be off licking their own wounds because it's deserted when they finally make a run for Jacob's dorm.

Paul doesn't feel safe until the lock has clicked behind them, until Jacob has collapsed onto his own bed and Paul has settled himself awkwardly on Jacob's roommate's. They stare at each other in silence for a long moment, and then Jacob buries his face in his own hands. It takes Paul a moment to realize that he's started to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no Catholic info for this chapter! YAY!
> 
> Sorry this took so long. I'd tell you about how busy my life has gotten, but no one really cares. What I can tell you is that updates are likely to be a little slow in the next few weeks; this weekend and the next (and on into the last week of June), I am completely redoing my entire bedroom, including the flooring and the paint. This basically means I'll be sleeping on the couch and not having a private space in which to write for a long stretch of time. I'll try to do what I can, but just know that I'm not going to be writing under normal circumstances and that means things are going to be slow. I'm really sorry! I wish it were better timing, but this is really the only time any of us have to take the project on, so. UPDATES WILL BE A LITTLE SLOW. I LOVE YOU, PLEASE DON'T HATE ME.
> 
> In other news, troll!Roderick is kind of my favorite thing. I need to stop re-watching his scenes with Emma at the mansion. Or maybe I SHOULD NEVER STOP EVER. :D


End file.
